The evening world., 1887-12-24

What's the matter, Bridges ?" I asked
impatiently. He came out into the moon
light and l could see that his face was
pinched and drawn with agony. He looked
ten years older than when I bade him good
night q few hours before. l was really
alarmed, and asked anxiously if he were i'll.
"'Oh, l am well enough, he answered with
more composure than 1 had given him credit
for, but / have had such a horrible dream
no, not O dream, a vision.
Howl kept from laughing in his face I do
not know. But indeed his agony was pitiful
and l felt almost awed by it. At least l felt
was an odd idea that a soldier should stand
there in the moonlight, his face showing pale
through the fingers clasped over it, and his
voice husky with excitement, because he had
had q bad dream. remember thinking that
many of the poor fellows wrapped in their
visions if they were clairvoyant in their
sleep. However. l mastered the inclination
both to laugh and to sneer, and opening o
little flask of brandy which kept for special
holding it TO his lips told him to drink. His
teeth fairly chartered as he drank it off. I
gave him o camp-stool, took another myself
and waited for him to recover his equanimity.
After a while he said
You are very kind. Lieutenant. 1t is silly
40 doubt. l don't know how / came to be 30
affected. I don't believe / am a coward, but
it was so realise terribly real: l wouldn't
mind it myself really would not" he re-
but I would never think of being troubled
about it in this way, if it was not for my wife.
You don't know her, Lieutenant. It would
kill her. You don't know how her life is
bound up in mine. It's not any common
and savior-all to the poor girl; took her out
of the street.-the, not out of the street, out of
the very shadow of death. when she was but
q child, reared, educated and loved her all
the time with the double love of father and
her though-neyer, if she had not in
sisted upon it before / came away. She
was sure / would be hurt-killed perhaps,
and she wanted to be rs near to me as she
could come. knew it was foolish. l ought not
enteen and I'm .forty-a, graybeard, too.
That's what the boys call me sometimes.
and they are right. ! was not worthy of her
never can be, but l love her, and she wor:
you could see her letters to me. am the
pinnacle of the worlds life and worth in
her eyes. / know / don't deserve it, and l
ought not to have let her get such a foolish
idea. In truth, / did nothing to encourage
it-but-but ! loved her, and / could not dis
pei her illusion-could /, now?'
But what has This to do with your dream,
man2n -,
"'Ah, yes-my dream cried he with a
shudder. well, it wasn't o dream, you see.
at ali, for I wasn't asleep. / had been lying
down looking up at the stars and thinking OF
Emily-wondering how she was getting on,
you know, and fearing she WINS unhappy.
The truth is, I don think of much else. I'm
an old fool, l suppose, but ! simply. can't
help II. Remember, I've carried her In my
heart ever since she was four years old, Lieu
tenant, and it has been the one JOY Of my life
to think and do for her. I'm not q coward
nor neglectful OF my duty. but how can I
help 1t If her image is before my eyes all the
timer Well. ] grew 70 anxious about her